The Cloak and Dagger
by The Feisty Rogue
Summary: Tom meets Mr Potter, a distant relative who wants to free him from life at the orphanage. Timetravel!AU


**The Cloak and Dagger**

* * *

"You've got a visitor, Tom!"

Tom stifled a yawn and set aside his book on Arcane Rituals and Spell Circles. He stored it in his trunk, which he'd warded himself to ensure that no Muggle would go near it, and tucked his wand up his sleeve. He wasn't expecting anyone, and for that reason, he was instantly suspicious.

The only other visitor Tom had received in the last fifteen years had been Professor Albus Dumbledore, who'd revolutionised Tom's world. Whoever this visitor was, there was nothing they could say that would be more of a surprise than revealing the existence of the wizarding world. They would likely be a disappointment. Still, it couldn't hurt to find out.

A tall man in his early twenties waited in the reception hall. He had scruffy black hair and oval glasses that disguised his emerald eyes. He slouched against a wall, eyeing the inside of the Orphanage with interest.

"There you are. Now, Tom, this is Mr Potter. He tells me he's a distant relative of yours."

Potter perked up, and upon seeing Tom, he smiled.

"Mr Riddle! I'm delighted to have finally found you."

"Good afternoon, sir," Tom said. He shook the offered hand, noting that Potter's boots were made from dragonhide and his flowing coat appeared to shimmer, despite the lack of sunlight indoors. Potter was a well-known pureblood name. Tom tried not to seem too excited at the thought. "A distant relative?"

If he was a relative of Tom's, he was a rich one. Tom smiled the same winning smile he used on Professor Slughorn and the girls that swooned over him. He would not waste this opportunity, not in the same way he'd wasted his chance with Dumbledore.

"Absolutely. On your father's side, actually." Potter shot Madam Cole a glance then winked at Tom conspiratorially. "Would you mind if I took you out for lunch? There's a pub just around the corner where we can chat and I'll tell you everything you'd like to know."

"Not at all," Tom said, rolling his eyes behind Madam Cole's back as she twittered away.

Potter smirked. "Come along then, Mr Riddle."

They walked silently to the local at the end of the road. Tom rather felt that The Cloak and Dagger was a good name for a pub in which wizards were to discuss business. Inside the pub was dark and gloomy, the electric lights flickering in their settings in the wall. Potter chose a corner that hid them from the rest of the room and drummed his fingertips against the wooden table as he glanced about.

"What can I get you, Mr Riddle? I'm paying, of course."

Tom perused the menu, settling on something that wasn't outrageously extravagant, but not something he'd order for himself using his own coin.

"Steak and kidney pie and a half pint."

He dared Potter to challenge him on his choice of drink. Potter only shook his head, a wry grin playing about his lips.

"Certainly."

While Potter ordered them food, Tom inspected the pub. He'd never seen the interior before. Penniless orphans like he weren't permitted inside establishments like this, not on their own. It wasn't much of an improvement on the Leaky Cauldron, which Tom would have preferred anyway, as it was a wizarding pub. But it was warm and the food smelled delicious, far better than what he'd be served back at the Orphanage.

Potter returned, two glasses in his hands.

"Half for you, a whole for me," Potter said, settling them on the table. "It's Guinness, hopefully you'll like it."

Tom took a small sip. The liquid was thick and bitter on his tongue, with an aftertaste of chocolate.

"Thank you."

Tom grinned, satisfied that he'd drawn the right conclusions about his relative when Potter withdrew the expected wand from up his sleeve. He was still wary of the other man, however, as he was wary of everyone, like all Slytherins were, and prepared to draw his own wand and defend himself if he needed to.

"Just a few protective wards," Potter said. He cast a silent spell, then twirled his wand. _"Muffliato."_

A bubble of silence fell over them. Tom bit back the urge to demand to know the spell that Potter had just cast and instead settled for another sip of his drink, his heart racing.

"Now, Mr Riddle. Let me tell you how I came to find you. Have you done much research into your paternal bloodline?"

Tom shook his head and took another sip of his drink. "I was going to do it this summer."

"I'll save you some time, in that case." Potter smiled. "My father's aunt, Mildred Potter, was born a squib—dreadful business, I'm sure you know. The family married her off in secret to your great grandfather, Edward Thomas Riddle. The Riddle family moved to a town called Little Hangleton and we lost contact. However, I've recently been doing research into our family history and came across evidence that the Gaunt family and the Potter family had joined in matrimony—your parent's wedding. Of course, the Potters and the Gaunts are both distantly related to the Peverells, but that's beside the point. I'm sorry to say that your mother died in childbirth. I've yet to track down your father, but either way, I shan't be leaving you to the whims of your Muggle family. I'd like to offer you a place in my home. You see, I contacted my old potions professor, Horace Slughorn, and he had nothing but praise for you. Your academic record speaks for itself, so I'd like to welcome you to the Potter family."

Tom managed a weak smile. He felt utterly overcome, his breathing coming in pants, his cheeks flushing. He tried to control his reactions, but he was certain they must be obvious to Potter.

"I'd love to," Tom said. He swallowed, his throat tight with emotion.

"Oh my, you don't look well," Potter said, his brow furrowing. "Are you quite alright, Mr Riddle?"

Tom blinked, swaying in his seat. Perhaps he was unwell. It couldn't be that the news had flustered him. He was a Slytherin and he always behaved like one.

"Come along, let's get you back to the orphanage. I just need to settle up the adoption papers and I'll be back in a day or two."

Tom's vision was clouding and he was hardly coherent as Potter helped him stumble back to his room.

"You'll return?" he asked, aware that he was showing his weakness but unable to do anything about it.

"Of course I will," Potter said. Strangely, his mouth had twisted into a bitter smirk, an echo of an expression Tom often saw in the mirror. Surely the triumph was a figment of Tom's imagination. "Or my name isn't Harry Potter."

Tom smiled and collapsed into his bed. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the revenge he would take on his peers once he had the status and monetary means to do so. With his new fortune, he'd buy fine robes, eat at only the most respectable of places, and purchase as many spellbooks he as his heart desired. He'd become the most powerful wizard of all, learning secret magics, finding hidden knowledge, and achieve his greatest dream of all… immortality.

* * *

Amanda Cole was not a frivolous woman and she didn't stand for excitement or any other sort of nonsense. When the kind Mr Potter had brought Tom back from the local pub, Tom had looked awfully ill. She presumed he'd taken one too many liberties; drink was the devil's tool, after all. Still, she'd allowed Mr Potter to return Tom to his bedroom—Mr Potter had helped the boy stumble up the stairs.

Now it was the following morning, and Tom was still lazing about in bed, despite the raps she'd laid on his door.

"Mr Riddle," she snapped, quite fed up with waiting. "Get up at once."

It wasn't as if he ever got ill, after all.

When Tom didn't reply, Amanda huffed and opened the door herself. Tom was still asleep, the lazy child.

"Up!" She shook his shoulder, but Tom lay motionless. She shook him harder, but still Tom did not wake. It was then that she realised he was paler than he should be, his body stiff, and she realised, to her fright, that he wasn't breathing.

"Someone call a doctor!" Amanda shrieked and was rewarded with the children in the orphanage scrambling to do her bidding. She checked his pulse, but Tom was cold to the touch. She sat back with a gasp as she realised that young, beautiful, frightful Tom Riddle… was dead.

* * *

_QLFC Round 8 Captain Prompt: Write for either __Upright: Inner Happiness, Fulfilment, Dreams Coming True OR _**_Reversed: Shattered Dreams, Broken Family, Domestic Disharmony._**

_Word Count: 1445_


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